


Devil In Your Eyes

by sand1941



Category: Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Complete, Drinking, Homosexuailty, M/M, Minor Violence, Multichapter, Seduction, Tiff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-16
Updated: 2013-07-16
Packaged: 2017-12-20 09:13:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 1,348
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/885544
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sand1941/pseuds/sand1941
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>SH/JW multichapter fic migrated from my ff.net account and reorganized into the story format it was meant to have. Seduction, fight, and waiting.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Eyes

Oh god, your eyes, they burn.

I watch you from across the room watching me, I feel suddenly uncomfortable. Your gaze burning me. Predatory is the only word. My hand reaches for my collar, tugging at the unwelcome constriction as my throat feels as though it is enlarging. I force my eyes back down, the book in my lap seemingly forgotten. I pull my hand away from my collar and flip a page, feigning interest before stealing another glance at you.

Thin features flushed with alcohol, smoke from your pipe making a curtain between us, but your eyes are clear. A small smirk hanging across your proud mouth. Do you know? Know how that look you're giving, the one that makes you look like a wolf about to dine on some mutton, makes me react?

I won't succumb. I must be strong.

Already you have crossed the room, a brandy in hand, pipe left forlorn on the end table, yearning for that rose petal mouth of yours to fold around it once more. The image of your lips puffing away on it doing terribly inappropriate things to my own nether regions. My pants growing tighter as I feel myself stretch.

Lost in my thoughts you catch me unaware, the scent of liquor my only warning as your face falls to my level. This is wrong.

"God frowns upon us." My tongue heavy as I push one hand against your shoulder in an attempt to move you away. To save both of us from this fall.

Your laughter is bitter. "God?" That predatory smile on your face, your hand against my own, alcohol rolling from your tongue, following your words, "I see no reason to believe in God."

I note that both your hands are on me now, the glass of brandy dropped carelessly on the floor, seeping into the carpet, but you could careless.

And I wonder if its okay. If its with you, will all be forgiven.

and you hold my face firmly as you push against me, mouth trailing warm kisses down my jaw.

Somehow I let my guard down.

The realization hits me and I fight to push you away, to get you off of me. To no avail.

I must want this as well.

Because if I really wanted to be saved I could have fought you off. If I really cared what God thought, what society thought, then I would have walked out that door the day I met you.

I would have left the day you turned that grin on me, your eyelids lowered in a sultry fashion, inviting me to stay awhile. The devil in a human coat, tempting me with what I couldn't, would never dream of, refusing.

As you show me the sins of the flesh, as we pull each other down, I find that it is more important to live in the moment. To live in this time where your hands are on me, warm, chasing away the darkness and leaving only that beautiful heat.

And if I fall from grace, if I should spend eternity in hell because of this moment, then so be it.

Because I'll be spending it with you.

 

A/n: I have no qualms with homosexuality, however, I see it as something that would be very hard for the good Doctor to grasp based on the time period in which Sherlock Holmes takes places. These aren't my thoughts, but the thoughts of the characters, I merely write.


	2. Monster

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Fight.

"You!" The word spat, venom in the single syllable, in the exclamation. This man was a menace, no a monster! My hand rose without thought on my part, delivering a nasty jab into the taller man's chest with more force than I would've expected. He slumped back, moving away without a word. The look of defeat ghosting across that normally impassive face only serving to irritate me further. Worse was the smirk he always wore, a tiny up-turn at the corner of his mouth. The implication that he knew something I did not.

"You!" The word harsh and low; I couldn't seem to get beyond my rage to complete the sentence; couldn't seem to muster an insult that would serve to show him just how low he really was. His snobbish demeanor and the way he always knew everything; the way he thought he could read people like they would read books. The subtle hints he would find that most overlooked.

Squaring up to jab at that bird-like ribcage again I saw the tears shining behind his eyes, begging to fall. He made me sick. My fist closed, landing with a sickening thump to the brittle bones protecting his vital organs. This time I went for his face, he still made no move to block or return the blows, wheezing from the last hit. "You-" But he cut me off with one of his insane little giggles right before my fist broke his nose.

Blood pattered on the floor, and he had the nerve to laugh, looking from me to the floor then touching his nose gingerly; it would be bruised tomorrow, maybe he'd have black eyes. I bit my cheek trying to keep from killing him. I wanted to kill him, the rage boiling over, being expressed physically upon his body.

Each fist tossed at him only serving to drive me ever closer towards madness. One on the cheek, he spit a tooth out. One in the gut, he doubled over, which led to an elbow to the back of the head. He fell to the floor, emitting more of those irritating snickers. Drawing my booted foot back I kicked his side, watching as he curled in on himself, "You...."

His eyes met my own, he showed no remorse, but all it took was one word from him, "Watson." His breathing ragged, hyena laughter still escaping even as he lay in pain on our floor, blood from his nose and mouth leaving a halo around his head. He was pathetic.

And yet, somehow, he seemed to have a power over me. With that one word I stopped. I turned on heel and left the flat, stopping to tell Misses Hudson that Holmes may need her help, if she would be so kind.

As the door to 221b Baker St clicked shut behind me and the wind blew his smell away I felt remorse. It was how I knew we were different. I was human. My gaze shifted to the light in our window and I saw Holmes, pipe in hand watching me walk away, emotionless mask back in place, marred by blood, bruising already beginning. He was something else. I turned away, headed for the pub. My stomach twisting at what I had done to that man I considered a dear friend.

Maybe I was the monster after all.


	3. Manners

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Final Chapter, told from Sherlock's POV.

I was never one for following the rules.

I'd made it part of my lifestyle not to follow such things as manners, but something about you makes me want to fit in a little. To try and follow these silly expectations.  
Maybe it's the way you're always scolding me, getting frustrated and leaving.

Every time we fight I'm sure it will be the last; that I've finally managed to drive you away.

But I'd turn around and there you were again; rubbing your silly mustache and looking ashamed, as though it were you at fault. The strangest moments were when you'd apologize. For one such as me it seemed a ridiculous thing to do; a thing I simply couldn't figure out how to accept. You'd done no wrong.

This time I'd do the right thing. This time I would follow the rules of polite society, or try. I would apologize.

Putting you in the same position I'd been in time and time again.

As soon as you came back. If you ever would come back.

I won't leave this lounger till you do though. That would be a waste of effort. You'll be back, you've come back before.  
I still feel my heart beating in anticipation.


End file.
